


One Way Ticket to Hell ... And Back

by sunset_oasis



Series: Drarry Stories [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunset_oasis/pseuds/sunset_oasis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Postwar Drarry fic featuring Draco and Pansy working at the Department of Mysteries, Harry transferring from the Auror office to join them, Sirius coming back from the veil, and the normal Drarry bickering and angst. Draco/Harry. Sirius/Pansy. Contains slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story also posted on my FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12023786/1/  
> Hope you all enjoy this postwar Drarry story :)
> 
> I don't own Harry Potter.

Pansy hated Monday mornings. She could still feel the hangover from yesterday’s Girls’ Night Out with Millie, Tracey, and Daphne at _CSI Diagon_ , a local bar in Diagon Alley.  Rubbing her forehead, she climbed out of her bed and stumbled across the floor to her wardrobe.  After a few moments of debating with herself, Pansy settled for green silk blouse and a black skirt.

She headed out her room and found her flatmate making sandwiches for breakfast.  In the kitchen, Draco raised his head after hearing her footsteps, “We’re running out of bread, need to buy some more when we leave work today.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she grumbled, “Where’s the goddamn hangover potion, anyway?”

Draco looked at her disapprovingly as he whirled his wand to cook the eggs, “For Merlin’s sake, Pansy, didn’t I always tell you not to drink too much on Sunday nights?  Friday, Saturday – fine, do what you want, but Sunday nights, when you drink too much you never get anything done the next morning at work!”

She gave him a cheeky grin, “But then you’ll handle all the Monday work for me, darling, isn’t that why I drink on Sunday nights?”

With a flick of his wand, Draco skillfully put two plates of sandwiches onto their dining table and grumbled, “Fuck you, woman.”

Pansy snorted, “I’d love that, but darling, you’re gay.”  She finally found the vial of hangover potion on top of a drawer, and downed it, feeling a lot more clear-headed.  Her eyes wandered a bit then settled at the one of the bedrooms in the flat.

Draco huffed, and sat down unceremoniously at the dining table.  He looked at Pansy and found her staring at the locked bedroom, and his expression softened slightly as he suddenly understood what the Girl’s Night Out yesterday was about.

The now locked bedroom had once belonged to Blaise.  The three of them, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise, had moved in into a flat together after graduating from Hogwarts, and had continued to do so even after Pansy and Blaise’s break-up.  But after Blaise had brought back too many different girls, Pansy had finally kicked him out of their flat.  So now it was just them two.

Yesterday was exactly 5 years after their break-up, and that was why the ex Slytherin girls had dragged Pansy out for a drink – or many drinks.  He still remembered the exact date because Pansy blasted that date off every calendar they hanged in their flat each year ever since.  It had been five years but he knew she hadn’t met anyone she was interested in since Blaise.

Draco studied the beautiful witch in front of him, her dark hair still slightly disheveled and her eyes a bit dazed, but she was nevertheless a pretty woman.  He sometimes wished that he’d been straight, then maybe the two of them could’ve ended up together, without Blaise breaking Pansy’s heart or Narcissa and Lucius badgering Draco to get a wife every time he visited the Malfoy Manor.

They hadn’t tried to find a new flat mate since, instead just leaving Blaise’s old bedroom locked and never opening it.  Draco knew it held too many memories for Pansy and she just wanted to avoid them by locking them all away.  But the truth was, you could lock a room, but you could never really lock away the memories.

Draco was never good with comforting others, so he decided to simply bring up a different topic to take Pansy’s mind off Blaise. “Wonder what the new bloke Jeremy mentioned last week would be like.”

Jeremy Stretton, a Ravenclaw four years above them during their Hogwarts days, was now their fellow coworker at the Department of Mysteries.  After Draco and Pansy’s graduation, they had chosen a job that would require minimum interaction with other departments.  A Slytherin just out of Hogwarts after the post-war age wasn’t exactly welcomed in a lot of places, but the Department of Mysteries lost a quite a few of its workers during the wartimes and had some vacancies, so Draco and Pansy took the option.  Blaise, that lucky bastard, had come from a neutral family and had never led the Death Eaters into Hogwarts or proposed to hand Harry Potter over to Voldemort in the Great Hall out of fear.  He had easily secured a job at St Mungo’s, with all those Outstandings he got from the NEWTs.

Jeremy had mentioned last week that there was someone from another department that would be transferring to their department today.  To be honest, Draco was a little nervous.  There hadn’t been anyone transferred to their department as far as he could remember.  Most of them joined the department straight after graduation.  He didn’t remember anyone that had been at another department before coming to work with them.

“Hopefully it’s not another Gryffindor, Dennis is enough for me to handle,” Pansy muttered, taking a sip of her coffee.  Dennis Creevey and his girlfriend Orla Quirke, a Ravenclaw, had joined the department after their graduation.

Still, they both liked Dennis well enough, even though he was a bit too cheerful and loud at times.  But he was nice to the ex-Slytherins, something that shocked Draco, considering his brother had died at the final battle.  In some way, Draco admired the younger Gryffindor’s ability to move on from the damages caused by the war.  Though, on one drunken occasion after work, Dennis had confessed that he still thought of Colin from time to time.  But he had also said that he knew Colin would want him to be happy instead of wallowing in misery.

And Dennis, being a Muggleborn, had introduced Draco and Pansy to some Muggle music, which Draco was now heavily addicted to.  He was particularly fond of a band called the Arctic Monkeys.  Dennis had even taken him and Pansy and Orla to their concert once, where Draco had gotten himself lost in the music with Alex Turner singing _I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor_ on the stage.

They finished their breakfast and flooed to the Ministry.  On their way to their office at the Department of Mysteries, they passed the Auror Office, and Draco heard the voice of Ron Weasley.  He seemed to be chatting with Terry Boot.  Draco couldn’t exactly make out of what they were saying, since there were too many people in the hallways, but he thought that some of the words he heard were ‘gonna miss him …’, ‘transferring…’, ‘mysteries…’.  He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly had a sinking feeling inside his stomach.

 

* * *

 

They arrived at the main office of The Department of Mysteries and went inside, then Pansy gasped slightly when she saw the man talking to Jeremy.  Draco didn’t make any sounds, but his body stilled as he saw that recognizable messy black hair anywhere.  The man turned to face them, and his emerald green eyes met Draco’s.  _No bloody fucking way._

But before any of them could say anything, the door opened again and Dennis and Orla hurried in.  Dennis’s eyes lit up with surprise and eagerness as he greeted the man, “Hi Harry, it’s been a while!”

It might have been a while for Dennis, but it was surely longer for Draco.  He and the Savior of Wizarding World hadn’t met ever since the night after the hearing in which Potter had cleared Draco’s and Narcissa’s name.  At Narcissa’s insistence, Draco had invited Potter out for a dinner that night, as a gesture of thanks.  After a very awkward dinner, they had gone for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron.  Somewhere between the third to fifth firewhiskey Draco had drunken that night, he and Potter had started bickering.  He couldn’t remember what they had argued about, as they had fought over so many things before.  Then they had kissed – Draco still couldn’t understand how that had happened, even after all those years, but he did still remember that felt good, even if kiss had been with _Harry bloody Potter, the Golden Savior_ , out of all people.

It had been super awkward, even more so then the dinner, when Potter had abruptly broken the kiss apart.  Then the Gryffindor Golden Boy had stood up and left the Leaky Cauldron so quickly before Draco could’ve returned from shock.  They had avoided each other ever since.  Draco only saw Potter on the newspaper headlines from time to time.

And now there he was, standing inside the office of Department of Mysteries, intruding the one workplace Draco had finally become accustomed to after the war.  Bitter resentment built up inside him, in a way he couldn’t even comprehend himself.  _Leave it to Potter to ruin everything,_ Draco thought somewhat bitterly.  He’d grown to love this office after years of working here, and gotten used to his coworkers and even befriended them.  This was somewhere he felt comfortable to be at, and now Potter was suddenly here, and he felt like a sanctuary for him was destroyed.  Of course, technically Potter hadn’t really done anything yet, but just his presence here brought up Draco’s bitterness and resentment.  Draco knew it was irrational, but he’d never been too rational when it came to Harry Potter.

Potter nodded towards Dennis, “Hi Dennis, Orla,” then turned back to them, “Parkinson.” And after a moment of silence that Draco felt like an eternity, “Malfoy.”

Draco felt his throat tightened.  Beside him, Pansy, who knew about the kiss between him and Potter all those years ago, raised her eyebrows and said scathingly, “It’s you?  The new transfer into our department?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Jeremy said, “I’ve just finished briefing him.  He’ll be sharing the office with you and Draco.”

Of course, it made sense.  Since Jeremy, Dennis, and Orla shared one office of the department while Draco and Pansy occupied another, it was natural for a newly joined person to go to the office with just two people.  But still, Draco didn’t like the arrangement.  Not one bit.

 _Monday totally sucks,_ he thought. _I need drink. Or probably a dozen._

 

* * *

 

To neither Draco nor Pansy’s surprise, the morning went off badly.  Pansy saw the two men started off with a cold, curt civility that was as unnatural as it could be.  Draco showed Potter around the office with a cool and professional demeanor, while Potter’s face stayed expressionless for most of the time.

When Draco handed Potter the key of the office, Pansy saw their fingers touched for a moment then Potter held onto Draco’s hand, not letting go.  The blond jerked his hand away with a nasty expression and a tone colder than ice, “Don’t touch me.”

She looked at Potter, a flicker of mixed regret, hurt, and resignation flying across his previously expressionless face.  Pansy was starting to feel her headache again.  She really shouldn’t’ve gotten off bed this morning.

“Draco …” she heard Potter said, and Pansy suddenly wanted to slap him so badly.

“That’s Malfoy to you, Potter,” Draco replied icily, but Pansy could hear the pain in his voice, even if it was so well concealed – after all, they’d known each other since they had been bratty, biased pureblood kids; they’d shared a common room during Hogwarts and a flat after that.  She knew him inside out, just like he knew her.  ‘Us against the World’, just like she used to say, just like that song of Coldplay’s she loved. (Though Draco hated Coldplay for some reason Pansy never bothered to understand, and she enjoyed playing their songs in the flat just to annoy the hell out of him.)

Draco never liked to discuss about the kiss, but Pansy had surmised long ago that her best friend had enjoyed that kiss, and had felt hurt after Potter had broken off the kiss and run away from him.  He’d been going to Muggle gay bars ever since, snogging and shagging different men but never found one as physically compatible with him as Potter.  Pansy would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised.  Hell, even Greg and Vince had figured out in their Hogwarts years that their leader’s obsession with Potter hadn’t never just been simple rivalry.

The icy demeanor Draco was wearing now could scare away most people, but Potter probably never belonged to the category of ‘most people’ anyway.  “We’re all coworkers here,” Potter said, “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

Draco’s eyes flared with anger, and his voice was deceptively calm when he spoke again, “I _insist_ that you do not address me by my first name.  Now, get to work, Potter, I’m sure Jeremy already briefed you on what you have to do.”

Without another word, Draco sat down on his seat and started his work, ignoring the other two.  Potter looked hesitant for a moment, and Pansy sent a glare his way that conveyed ‘Don’t go bothering him or I’ll kill you’ before starting to work, too.

Draco stared at the equations he had been working on last Friday and tried to pick up where he left off.  He usually found comfort in all those mathematical equations calculating the normally ambiguous concepts.  The symbols, the equations – they were neat and they made sense, even if the things they represent – time, space, thoughts, or love – were sometimes quite chaotic.  But when put into mathematical symbols, those chaos become logical equations he could make deductions from.  Draco liked the equations to make sense, it gave him the feeling of being in control over at least something in his life.

But he found himself unable to concentrate on the math equations that he usually loved, as his brain replayed the scene where Potter had just held onto his hand.  They memory of the goddamn kiss from long ago floated across his mind, and his nose could still smell the faint smell of the cologne Potter was wearing.

Draco knew that he was royally fucked.

 

-TBC-


	2. Chapter 2

Harry still regretted breaking off that kiss with Draco Malfoy all those years ago.  It had been just months after the war, and he hadn’t recovered from all the deaths and losses he’d suffered during the war.  He’d distanced himself away from many friends, because he had subconsciously believed that allowing others to get near him would’ve only hurt them. 

He had, however, agreed to Draco Malfoy’s invitation for dinner when he had turned down Ron and Hermione’s many requests to visit.  Perhaps because of their mutual dislike, so Harry had thought that the situation with his friends wouldn’t have applied.  How naïve and stupid he he’d been.

Things had gone horribly wrong for Harry when he and Malfoy had kissed, and even worse when he’d found himself enjoying it, the passionate and bittersweet kiss, mixed with pleasure and anger and sadness.  And during their small chat before the kiss, he and Malfoy had been talking about their childhoods and somehow found that neither of theirs had been overly pleasant.  Some sort of understanding had emerged from both sides, and despite their reluctance, they had grown to respect each other in some way that night.

In the end, the understanding for each other, the similarities they’d found in each other, the seven-year rivalry that had made them a big constant presence in each other’s life, the familiar bickering that had always made both of them felt alive in some way no other person could, the bittersweet kiss that had tasted so good … all of those mixed up had caused Harry to fall in love with Malfoy that night.  Which, of course, had terrified Harry so much that he’d chosen to break the kiss and flee, because that hadn’t been the way he’d expected things to go. He’d been pushing people away from him, he hadn’t been expecting to fall in love or kiss anyone – least of all Draco Malfoy. He’d been so shocked and frightened by the close proximity and emotional vulnerability that he’d run away.

Harry never knew that the kiss had as much impact on Malfoy as it had on him.  He’d always thought that Malfoy would’ve forgotten it soon enough anyway.  After all, it was just a kiss, and Malfoy couldn’t possibly felt the same way for him as he did.  Harry was always a magnet for troubles, people near him always got hurt or died, it just wasn’t possible for anybody to really love him back.  At least that was what he always believed.

But despite those beliefs, he still dreamt of that kiss sometimes over the years.  He still reminisced about that night, the familiar bickering that had been almost satisfying in some strange way and the mutual understanding.  He still longed for seeing Draco Malfoy again, despite wanting to avoid him at the same time.

He had started dating again years later, and had casually been with a few men and a few women and shagged some muggles in muggle gay bars, all intended to distract himself from thinking of Draco bloody Malfoy.  All of which had been, of course, unsuccessful.

It had been two years ago, at Rose’s 8th birthday party, when he had chatted with Hermione and she’d commented that “Don’t you think Malfoy might be avoiding you as well all these times?  You couldn’t have successfully not meet him at all if it was just the efforts on your part.”  Harry hadn’t really given that comment much thought at that time, until his encounter with Blaise Zabini 6 months ago.

It had been in The Three Broomsticks when Harry had run into Zabini, his hand running over the thighs of a long-legged model when Harry had walked into the bar.  Harry’s celebrity status had appeared to still carry some weight even more than ten years after the war, and the beautiful model had enthusiastically asked him for a signature.  Then Zabini had glared at Harry with such loathing in his eyes that’s shocked Harry and snapped scathingly, “Potter’s just an arrogant bastard who doesn’t think anyone’s good enough for him.”

Harry had been surprised by the anger in Zabini’s eyes.  Even if Zabini’s date had wanted a signature of him, the reaction had been a bit overly dramatic in Harry’s opinion.

When Harry had subtly pointed that out, Zabini had sneered at him while shooing his pretty date away dismissively, “Potter, I was referring to that, despite your _celebrity status_ —” the way Zabini had spat the two words out would’ve done Snape proud “— I don’t think you have the right to kiss someone then leave suddenly just because you don’t think a teenage ex-Death Eater was good enough for the Savior of the Wizarding World.  You shouldn’t have kissed him at first, toying with his feelings like that, if you’d thought he wasn’t good enough for you.  Even _I_ don’t do that.” Zabini had downed some firewhiskey at this point before slamming the bottle down with a snort, “and people call _me_ the playboy who breaks hearts.”

“Does it matter?  He didn’t like me anyway.” Harry had snapped back.

Zabini had given him a long, hard stare, but neither denied nor confirmed the sentence.  Then he’d said, “So you don’t deny the part where you think you’re too good for him?”

“I – it wasn’t what I was thinking!  I was just –” Harry had stammered, not knowing how to continue.  He couldn’t have told Zabini that he’d found himself in love Malfoy, could he?

“Just what, Potter?”

“People shouldn’t get involved with me!  I was a mess at that time, and I couldn’t really handle any relationships.  And I was bad luck, people near my got hurt or died or –” Harry had rambled on before being cut off Zabini’s leer.

“How very noble of you, Potter.  And how very … farsighted of you to beginning thinking about any relationships just at a random kiss—”

“It’s _not_ random!” Harry had blurted out before he could stop himself, and blushed at Zabini’s arched eyebrow.

“Right, not random is it …?  We’ll get back to that, but I do know that all the ‘people shouldn’t get involved with you’ is bullshit because I’ve heard you had dated quite a couple of people over the years, and of course, non of them were ex-Death Eaters.”

“I didn’t run away because he’s an ex-Death Eater!” Harry had replied hotly. “I testified for him at his trial and we talked about how he was forced into taking the mark—”

“Then why is him not worthy of your time like anyone else, that you felt the need to run away in that fashion, without any explanation whatsoever?”

“Because I was afraid, because I didn’t plan to fall in love with him, shut the fuck up about the things you don’t understand!” Harry had finally lost control after Zabini’s constant badgering, before realizing what he’d just revealed.

He hadn’t been expecting Zabini’s total calmness as the man had replied steadily, “That’s what I always thought … though never imagined I’d one day hear you say it.”

“What?”

“Potter, if you still harbor the same feelings as you did when you were seventeen –”

“What if it has intensified?” replied Harry in an agonized whisper, not caring now since Zabini had been let in on the big secret.

“Aren’t you Gryffindors supposed to be brave?” Zabini had demanded. “Stop running away!”

“Hermione says he must’ve been avoiding me too.”

“Granger’s always the smart one, you should listen to her more.  Don’t ever tell him I said this but – if you really want to do what’s right, if you really want to find him – he works the Department of Mystery, go corner him at his office after work or something.”

After the conversation with Zabini, Harry hadn’t been able to summon the courage to do that.  The suggestion – or demand – sounded even more preposterous after he’d woken up the morning after.

However, his thoughts on Malfoy had increased its frequency of appearing after that.  His auror work performance had also been deteriorating and Ron had been suggesting that he take a break.

So he had.

The loneliness in his flat in South Kensington had become so unbearable that Harry had craved for some company, leading him to go back to 12 Grimmauld Place after years of avoiding it after the war.  He hadn’t wanted to go visit Ron and Hermione or Ginny, and he’d figured that even Sirius’s mom’s rants would be better than his flat’s quietness.

During his stay there, a thought suddenly flickered through his mind – Sirius didn’t have a portrait here.  He knew Sirius had never been fond of this place and might not want a portrait here hanging with his mother anyway, but he had thought maybe he should do some research on how to set up a portrait, desperately needing a distraction.  After some trying, however, he’d found that he couldn’t set up a portrait for Sirius.  He had asked Hermione about this and gotten the answer, “Maybe this means that … Sirius hasn’t really passed on?”

Harry had thought about the veil at the Department of Mystery, the fact that Malfoy worked there, Hermione’s words, Zabini’s words, his sliding performance in the auror work, then he’d made the decision.

Which was why he was now working side by side with Draco Malfoy, trying to focus on the veil research he wanted to work on, while being distracted by the fact that Malfoy was just less than 3 meters away from him.  Harry tightened his grip on the quill, remembering the way his hand had touched with Malfoy’s just moments ago.

 _Sirius, focus on Sirius,_ Harry told himself. _You’re researching this for him, stop thinking about that wanker Malfoy._

He stared at the book in front of him about veils and afterlife, and the image of Malfoy’s shiny blond hair flew across him mind again.  Harry groaned silently to himself and cursed Hermione and Zabini for putting the idea in his mind, cursed Sirius for not properly passing on, but most of all cursed Draco Malfoy for … being Draco Malfoy and cursed himself for falling for that prat.

Why was his life always so complicated?  Hadn’t he already saved the world and deserved some peace?

 

-TBC-


	3. Chapter 3

Draco couldn’t really remember what progress he had made at work today.  He _might_ have finished that lengthy derivation about time travelling and emergence of parallel universes … or did he?  His mind felt dizzy and all the details of work progress today seemed to be obscured by thoughts about Potter … damn that stupid Gryffindor.  Draco closed his eyes again and rubbed his forehead, groaning softly, trying to recall if he had done that integral of some particular equation correctly, but all that came to his mind were the faint, mixed fragrances of cedarwood and sandalwood of Potter’s cologne and the black slacks that Potter wore today … cupping his arse rather nicely.

Then he seemed to realize that someone was saying his name.

“Draco,” Pansy snapped, her voice demanding, “Are you going to eat your dinner or just keep zoning out?”

Draco blinked, instantly being pulled back to reality.  He and Pansy were now sitting inside a private booth of the bar _CSI Diagon_ , having dinner.  Like they always did on Mondays.  Thomas and Finnigan provided many private booths in their bar, perfect to people who wanted some privacy, such as ex-Slytherins who didn’t want to be out in the crowded, public area of the bar.  Funny how he couldn’t clearly remember how they had come here after work today … _Oh Salazar, is there anything I remember clearly about today?_ Draco thought desperately.  He ignored a snide voice inside his head that said, “ _Well, there’s Potter.”_

The dark-haired woman sitting opposite of him was now glaring at him, her right hand holding a fork which stabbed into the proud work of roasted lamb by Seamus Finnigan. “Look, I get that you’re upset –”

“I’m not _upset_ ,” Draco protested. “I’m just – fucking irritated.  That’s all.  Who does that git think he is, easily switching departments whenever he likes.”

“Well, he’s the Boy-Who-Lived,” Pansy shrugged, “Not surprising that he’s got certain privileges.  Eat your beef stew, Draco. It’s getting cold.”

Draco huffed and took a bite before replying, “Yeah, yeah, the Boy-Who-Lived. He saved the world. You know, that’s _nearly twenty years ago._ A fucking _eternity_ away. Why does he still has privileges now?”

“Well, the kiss between you and him were nearly twenty years ago too, but you’re still dwelling on that too, huh?” Pansy rolled her eyes.  She put down her fork and pressed a button on the table that called for the bartender to bring more firewhiskey in.

Draco spluttered, “I – what?!  I do _not_ dwell on that!”

“Draco, you need to move on from him,” Pansy in a patient voice, as if talking to a small child. “Oh, thanks, Thomas.” She gave a small nod at Dean Thomas, who just brought some firewhiskey into their private booth.

After Dean left, Draco glared at Pansy, “There’s _nothing_ to move on from, Pans.  Nothing.  It wasn’t a goddamn relationship, just a stupid kiss.”

“If you kept dwelling, then there must be _something_ to move on from,” she disagreed.

“I’ve shagged a lot of people since him!” Draco snapped, “You’re the one who hasn’t dated anyone since Blaise!”

Pansy’s eyes turned dead cold this instant, “Do not mention _him_ in front of me.”

“Well, don’t mention Potter in front of me then,” Draco shot back.

His best friend didn’t flinch under his murderous gaze, but waggled her fingers at him. “This is completely different.  Blaise and I had been together for ages before we broke up, but you and Potter just had a small kiss, which, like you said, wasn’t a relationship.  And it’s nearly twenty years ago, unlike my breakup which is only—” Draco snorted slightly at the word ‘only’ “— 5 years ago.  Yet you’re just as sensitive about the topic as me.  Or probably more so.”

Draco opened his mouth to say something but Pansy waved him down as she continued, “And like you’ve said, you’ve shagged many men after him.  But you obviously still dwell on our Golden Saviour.  This is even unhealthier than _I_ am, Draco!”

Draco huffed and didn’t reply.  He wondered why he was best friend with this annoying, never-shut-up woman who couldn’t stay out of his business.

“Finish you dinner,” the said never-shut-up woman commanded, “we’re going home and you’re going to take a hot, perfect spa bath with that rosemary, lavender, and eucalyptus collection of yours and listen to some Pink Floyd to drown yourself in and just forget about everything else.”

Maybe that was why.  Because he knew that even when he was just so tired and irritated and wanting to escape, there was one person who would take care of his business like no one else would.

And maybe a god hot spa bath was just what he needed.  So he could forget about everything else.  But then a horrifying idea struck Draco – hadn’t he already forget about most things about today?  Because of _Harry sodding Potter_?

Draco thought that this really couldn’t get any worse.

 

* * *

 

Harry sighed.  Researching work was just so different from being an auror.  Too theoretical sometimes, though it was somewhat satisfying when he successfully derived a complicate formulation once in a while.  He did suspect that the satisfaction might decrease as he got more used to Department of Mystery and the initial sense of freshness and novelty faded away, but still, Sirius was worth it.  It wasn’t like he was doing well with auror work recently anyway …

Though Harry had to admit one of the profit of auror work was that he wouldn’t constantly get distracted by the flash of pale blond hair at the very corner of his eyes every time he paused to think.  Merlin, Draco Malfoy was really infuriating.  His stupid hair was infuriating.  His whole person, his existence was infuriating.

And the most infuriating thing of all was that Harry couldn’t even stop thinking about Malfoy.  For fuck’s sake, shouldn’t he be thinking about Sirius?  Why did Malfoy had to keep intruding into his thoughts?  Harry could still clearly remember that sweet yet bitter and salty kiss from years ago, as if it had been just yesterday when they were both teenagers who had just survived a war.  And he couldn’t get that feeling of that kiss out of his mind.

And this was just the first day at his new job.  He could only hope that things would get better.

Harry wasn’t sure when did he decided to go to a muggle gay pub and find some poncy blond boy to shag, but it was probably somewhere between where he left the Department of Ministry for work that day and the main entrance of the Ministry.  Leaving the Ministry and heading towards Muggle London, he went into the London Underground.  He soon got to Camden and after a few rounds of beers, he somehow ended up with pretty blond muggle boy dressed in a posh style sucking off his cock in the toilet of a pub.  Harry was a little drunk by then, but he was still fairly certain that the boy didn’t look over 25.  So very fucking young.  Harry remembered he had once been this young, kissing Malfoy in –

 _Stop. Thinking. About. Malfoy._   Harry told himself firmly, lightly grasping the blond hair of the posh young muggle in front of him.  _Nice blond hair, but not as good as – no, no, NO.  Stop thinking about him. STOP. Just stop._

 

* * *

 

The rest of week wasn't really much better for either Draco or Harry. During Tuesday and Wednesday, they worked together in the same office, both constantly distracted by each other's existence, but never talked to each other. When Pansy discussed things with Draco, Harry listened intently and forgot about his own research. When Pansy was shooting sarcastic comment at Harry, Draco tensed and focused on their conversation instead of his papers.

Draco and Harry didn't directly speak to each other, but the tension between them was still palpable. Increasing by each day. They avoided contact skillfully, and dodged quickly when they accidentally bump into each other. They generally tried to pretend the other person didn't exist, something they both seemed to think would take their own mind off the other person – though both parts turned out to be unsuccessful.

Pansy had decided on Thursday to bring her iPod to work so she could ignore the two idiots sharing the same office with her. She tuned in to The Vaccines' debut album  _What Did You Expect from The Vaccines?_ , while working on her research about the limitations of Time Turners.  She drummed her pencil along to the song  _Post Break-Up Sex_  – she had long found out that the pencils muggle used for writing were a hell lot more convenient than quills – and crossed off some wrong equations.

 _Post break-up sex_  
_That helps you forget your ex_  
_What did you expect from post break-up sex?_

 _When you love somebody but you find someone_  
_And it all unravels and it comes undone_

She frowned slightly, something about this song just deeply annoyed her. She pressed a button to skip the rest of this song.  The next song,  _Under Your Thumb_ , popped up.  As Justin Hayward-Young's continued to roll out of the earphones. Pansy's body shook slightly along with the rhythms of the music. She jotted down some new equations and reached her hand out towards the bookshelf and picked out a book and opened it. She distinctively remembered that something related was mentioned in this book …

After a while, a sharp, loud voice in the background cut through Justin singing  _All In White_ , "Are you completely retarded, Potter? Why the fuck did you put teabags in the drawer for coffee? Haven't I told you that this drawer was for coffee the first day you came?"

Pansy twitched her lips in amusement and pressed the pause button on the iPod.  This was too good to miss.  She had been having bets with herself which of them would break first.  It seemed that Draco’s slight obsession of placing everything to its correct place finally made him snapped.

“Malfoy, we don’t all have OCD like you!” Pansy heard Potter snapped back.  She still found it ... oddly amusing that the two could go for ignoring each other for a few days and then just rowed about something like placing teabag in the coffee drawer … but then again, the tension had been running high for a while now and threatening to break anytime, so she supposed it wasn’t that surprising.

In all honesty, she was relieved to see things finally got to this stage.   Maybe those two would have a chance of working things out now they’d finally broken the tension.  Of course, a fierce argument was probably necessary before things could go smoothly … on second thoughts, a dozen of fierce arguments might be necessary …

“Fine, you put it where you like then,” Harry snapped, tossing the small box of teabags at Draco, who caught it easily despite the other had deliberately thrown it for it to be hard to catch. “Happy?”

 _Seekers and their showing off tendencies,_ Pansy thought as she rolled her eyes.

“Ecstatic,” Draco snapped back, taking loud, angry strides towards the drawer where they put teabags.  Pansy could hear Potter muttering something about ‘working with a complete nutter’ under his breath.

After this incident, the two seemed to stop ignoring each other.  Instead, they began bickering about every small thing, making Pansy felt as if she was back at Hogwarts again, listening to some teenage girl arguments between Tracey and Daphne.  Really, was she working with 15-year-old girls or 35-year-old men?

She half-missed the tense silence when the two had been ignoring each other.  It had been quiet then.  But of course, the dramatics sort of compensated for the loudness.  Pansy still had some fondness of dramatics and gossips, even after she was no longer a teenager.

Sometimes watching the two men argue, listening to them exchanging insults, and seeing the odd chemistry between them made her want to interfere.  She knew that Potter was not the most observant person around, but she’d at least expect Draco to recognize the strange chemistry and sexual tension so thick that she could’ve cut through it with a knife.

Huffing, she wondered when these two would just shag each other.  And if idiots as dense as Draco and Potter could find each other, why the fucking hell was _she_ still single?

Pansy swallowed down some bitterness and ignored her coworkers arguing something about which book’s theory was correct on the veil.  She refocused on her work.   She didn’t need anyone.  She was an independent woman that could survive pretty well on her own.

Right, she didn’t need anyone.  And she wasn’t jealous that Draco and Potter had managed to find each other, even if they were too dense to figure out their real feelings.  Not jealous at all.

 

-TBC-


	4. Chapter 4

Harry stood in front of the veil which Sirius had fallen into nearly twenty years ago. He had left the main office of the department earlier, and was now standing alone in the eerily quiet, dark Death Chamber by himself.  It was the first time he came here since the battle twenty years ago.  Memories of distant past suddenly started flashing across his mind, and he closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself, not wanting to get distracted.  _Careful_ , he cautioned himself.  _Don’t mess this up._

Harry swallowed nervously and casted a spell on himself.  It was a spell that had been invented by Jeremy Stretton around 3 years ago, and it would allow people to travel safely to behind the veil.  And if he wasn’t back in half an hour, the spell would automatically transfer him back.  Well, theoretically, anyway.  Jeremy said the equations should be right and the deductions seemed flawless, though he never tested it out himself.  The ex-Ravenclaw was a very theoretical wizard.

Summoning his Gryffindor courage, Harry took a deep breath and raised his right foot as he prepared to step behind the veil into a mystery place he still had not much idea about, only that this was his chance to save Sirius, to bring him back.  Though of course, there was also a slight chance that he wouldn’t be able to come back himself.  But Harry didn’t mind, because Sirius was worth it.  Though a tiny voice in the back of his head asked him quietly if he would regret not saying a proper goodbye to Draco Malfoy if he couldn’t come back and was stuck behind the veil, too.  Any voice scolded the first voice, “Why are you thinking about not having a proper goodbye with _Draco Malfoy_? You should be thinking about Ron and Hermione, not Malfoy!”

Just as Harry was inches away from entering the veil, a sudden a female voice shouted behind him, causing him to abruptly turn around. “Potter!”

Harry narrowed his eyes and felt slightly annoyed for being interrupted at such an important moment, especially by a woman he had never liked. “What, Parkinson?”

 

* * *

 

Draco took a sip of his coffee, savoring its slightly bitter taste that he’d always enjoyed.  Over the past two months, he had been enduring having Potter sharing the same office with him, so he decided to take a well-earned break.  He had rarely taken any day off before, as he always enjoyed burying himself with work to ignore the sad fact that he didn’t have much love life.  But somehow, working with Potter was extra-exhausting and he felt like he deserved a day off.  Which was why he was now drinking coffee in a shop in Diagon Alley and gazing absent-mindedly out of the window.

Yet somehow, he felt oddly empty in a way he couldn’t really explain.  He briefly wondered if he was actually that much a workaholic that he would feel empty just by taking a day off work.  Then, with a sudden horror, he realized he was actually missing seeing Potter and that brought a sense of dread to him.  He closed his eyes and groaned slightly, wishing that he could’ve been just a workaholic.

And the image of Potter flew into his mind.  Draco sighed in frustration, wondering what he had done to deserve this.

 

* * *

 

After Potter had left the office, it was just Pansy left in the office since Draco took the day off.  She only knew roughly about the main reason Potter had been transferred to their department – something about a veil and his godfather Sirius Black – because she’d overheard Potter’s conversation with Jeremy.  Now, being alone in the office, she couldn’t resist her curiosity to slightly look through the papers on Potter’s table to gather more information as to what he was doing.  After a few moments, she quickly deduced from his notes that Potter was heading for a veil in the Death Chamber, and was probably intending to use Jeremy’s spell and dive into the veil.  Alone.

Which, in Pansy’s opinion, was just plain reckless.  Gryffindorish.  This was a spell that could _theoretically_ work, but had not been _actually_ tested out before.  People shouldn’t be stupid to test this alone, but she supposed she wasn’t surprised that hero-ish Gryffindors sometimes lacked common sense.  It would make much sense if there was someone there with him, another person with professional knowledge, just in case something went wrong.

It wasn’t like she cared about Potter personally, but Pansy did have her sense of work-ethic.  And of course, she couldn’t imagine if Draco came back for work tomorrow and found that Potter was … hurt or _gone_ or something … no, she didn’t want to imagine how Draco might react.

Pansy bolted out of the office and ran for the Death Chamber.  As she ran past the corridors and finally pushed open the door, she shouted, “Potter,” feeling relieved that he hadn’t actually stepped into the veil yet. 

Potter whirled around, sounding annoyed, “What, Parkinson?”

 

* * *

 

A familiar voice came from the entrance of the café, and Draco raised his head to find Theo walking in.  He raised his eyebrow at his friend who walked straight towards the counter without realizing Draco was here.  Luna Lovegood beamed behind the counter and her next words nearly made Draco choked out coffee, “Hi love.”

Draco stared at them and spluttered, and Theo turned his head slightly at the source of noise. “Oh, hi, Draco.”

“What are you doing here, Theo?”

“Visiting my girlfriend during lunch break, as you can see.  What are _you_ doing here?”

 _One of my friends is dating Luna Lovegood?_ Draco thought disbelievingly.  Had he been that focused on work – or on Potter, a snide voice commented inside his head which he ignored – that he somehow didn’t notice this? “Drinking coffee, as you can see,” Draco managed to reply weakly.

“Hmmm,” Theo smirked, “I see. How’s things with Potter?”

“ _What?!_ ”

“Heard it from Adrian who heard it from Daphne who heard it from Pansy that Potter transferred to your department,” Theo grinned. “According to Pansy, you two fight like an old-married couple.”

Draco was _so_ going to kill Pansy after he got back to their apartment today.

 

* * *

 

“Didn’t know you cared about my safety,” Potter squinted at her after Pansy’s explanation of why she was here.

 _Well, my best friend does,_ Pansy thought but she didn’t say it out loud.  Instead, she just shrugged casually, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know, Potter.”

“Uh-huh,” he said skeptically. “You once proposed to hand me over to Voldemort.”

“Showing that I’m capable of concerning of the safety of the whole Wizarding World,” she said coolly. “Since it had been a logical move that had the possibility of saving most lives.  So, I think it’s not surprising that I do care for the safety of a coworker.  Even an annoying, Gryffindor one.  Now, I’ll be monitoring for anything strange after you go through, and if the spell failed to transport you back as it should after thirty minutes, I’ll be calling for help.”

Potter just continued to stare at her, as if not believing what she was doing.

“I know I’m pretty, Potter, but don’t you have work to do?” Pansy drawled impatiently.  She was Potter hesitated for a moment before nodding resolutely, and turned around again, recasting the spell from earlier.

Pansy looked on as Potter stepped behind the veil, and checked her watch.  She hoped everything would work out just fine and Potter would come back in one piece.  For Draco’s sake.

 

* * *

He was floating in an array of white light. And it sort of felt like floating in the space, weightless and surreal. Harry took a moment to get used to the brightness of this place in contrast to the darkness of the Death Chamber, before realizing the section of area that was about ten meters in front of him, the color of the light was dark blue, rather unlike the white light section he was currently in.  And, floating there, inside the blue light section, was Sirius.

Feeling some sort of excitement and anticipation, Harry quickly tried to move towards that section.  As he gotten closer and closer, he started to realized that Sirius was looking exactly like twenty years ago, not having aged a tiny bit, and there was still a wound that looked quite new on his chest that had been struck by the spell of Bellatrix.  A thousand emotions swarmed inside Harry, and he kicked his legs faster, trying to get to the blue light section as fast as he could.

 

-TBC-

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: ff-sunset-oasis.tumblr.com


End file.
